


You've Said Too Much

by DragonQueenAndHerBear



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 2x05, AO3 1 Million, F/M, Jorah POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonQueenAndHerBear/pseuds/DragonQueenAndHerBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jorah's POV from he and Daenerys' conversation in "The Ghost of Harrenhal."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Said Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I wrote this fic a while ago (like right after this episode aired, I think?) and then forgot about it. I found it earlier this week when I was cleaning out my laptop, and then this weekend, with the whole "AO3 1 Million" thing, I figured now's as good a time to post it as any! Sorry if it's no good--like I said, it's sorta old.

You sit in your chambers, waiting for your queen to return, and you cannot help your thoughts from wandering where they shouldn’t. The smile she gave Xaro Xhoan Daxos makes your chest hurt, and the way she let Pyat Pree touch her hand makes you furious. You know you should instead be thinking on the red priestess’s earlier warning, but the only thing on your mind is the raging jealousy burning inside your heart. It has grown fiercer since the last time you felt it, when Khal Drogo was still alive. It is becoming more and more difficult to ignore, and you find yourself becoming distrusting and unkind toward every male that comes near her. You cannot help it. Your desire for her is overwhelming. Night after night you lay awake, wishing she were yours, wishing she loved you as you love her.

            Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. It is Irri, informing you that Daenerys had returned, and requests your presence at once. Your heart thuds once, in your chest, and you wonder how your love for her became so strong, to the point where your heart nearly stops simply from hearing she requests your presence. You hastily make your way to her chambers and knock on the door, willing your heart to steady, but when she opens the door—oh, your heart beats even faster at the sight of her. She is still wearing the gown from this evening’s party, her slender form barely covered by the soft blue fabric. Her soft, silky hair hangs down her back, and her bright violet eyes look up at you as her mouth moves to welcome you inside. She looks troubled, though, and you wonder if something must have happened with Xaro. You swallow down the lump in your throat that the thought caused you, and take a cautious step into her room as she closes the door behind her. She is obviously indifferent to the fact that it is only you and she alone in her bedchambers so late at night, but you… you cannot think of anything else, and nearly miss what she says because of it. But your mind snaps to attention at what she says next.

“Xaro asked me to marry him, Jorah,” she says matter-of-factly. Your breath catches in your throat, rendering you unable to speak, but she continues.

“He says if I marry him, he will give me gold and ships, enough to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. I think it I shall accept his offer. Marriages of convenience such as this are common for royalty, after all. It’s likely to happen sooner or later, anyway.”

_No,_ you think, _you can’t marry him. You don’t love him, and he… he doesn’t love you. Not like I do._ Suddenly you become desperate to change her mind, to make her realize how wrong she is to consider Xaro’s offer.

“This is a bad idea, _Khaleesi_ ,” you say, trying your best to keep your voice calm. Daenerys bristles at your objection.

“How? I gain ships and an army with this ‘bad idea’, Jorah. Everything I need to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.”

“That may be, but—”

“There is no more time to wait, we must strike.”

“If you cross the see with an army you bought—”

“The Seven Kingdoms are at _war_ with one another!” Daenerys snaps, her anger growing. “Four false kings, destroying the country!”

“To win Westeros, you need support _from_ Westeros,” you insist.

“The Usurper is _dead,”_ she says, leaving you momentarily shocked. _Dead? How? She must have heard this from Xaro._ Daenerys continues.

“The Starks fight the Lannisters, the Baratheons fight each other!”

You snort in disbelief. “According to your new friend, who earned your trust by cutting his hand?”

She ignores your retort. “The time to strike is _now._ We need to find ships and an army, or spend the rest of our lives… rotting away at the edge of the world!”

“Rich men do not become rich by gaining more than they get,” you begin, attempting once more to reason with her. “They’ll give you ships and soldiers, and then they’ll own you forever. Moving carefully is the hard way… but it’s the _right_ way.”

“And if I’d listened to that advice outside of Qarth, we’d all be dead by now,” she responds. She does not mean to wound you, you know this, but her words hurt nonetheless. You force a light smile and move towards her, desperate to convince her this is a bad idea.

“I know the opportunity seems like the last you’ll ever have, but you must—”

“Do _not_ speak to me like I’m a child,” she warns. She is clearly growing more and more frustrated with each word that passes your lips. She shoulders past you angrily, and for a moment the only thing you can think of is her lilac scent that wafts towards you as she passes. You force away the desire this stirs in you; now is not the time for such things. Turning towards her, you carefully try to soothe her anger.

“I only want—”

“What _do_ you want!?” she booms, startling you. “Tell me!”

Your expression turns serious as you will yourself not to answer, “ _you.”_

“…to see you on the Iron Throne,” you say instead.

“Why?”

“You have a good claim, a title, a birth right… But you have something more than that,” you tell her, slowly stepping towards her. “You may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart. You would not only be respected and feared, you would be _loved_.” You speak truly, for it is her gentle heart that led you to love her in the first place. She rolls her eyes, but your emotions are overflowing, and you cannot stop yourself from continuing.  
“Someone who _can_ rule, and _should_ rule, centuries come and go without a person like that coming into the world.” Your voice cracks, and she looks up at you, seemingly surprised by your sudden display of adoration.

“There are times when I look at you, and… I still can’t believe you’re real,” you finish, your breath catching in your throat. It is only now that you realize what you’ve just said. Your eyes widen in horror at your blunder, and hers widen in shock. She knows now, she must.

You’ve said too much, you old fool, and now she knows.

With a nervous huff, she looks away. You stare at her for a moment, hoping beyond hope to see some sort of sign of reciprocation, but there is nothing. You look down, silently cursing yourself, while she gathers her thoughts.

“So what would you have me do, as my advisor?” she asks with a shaky voice.

_As my advisor._

You look once more at her face, but she avoids your gaze. You bring a hand to your face, scratching it wearily as you attempt to hide the pain you felt at her words.

“Make your own way,” you say at last. “Find your own ship, you only need one. The allies we need are in Westeros, not Qarth.”

She continues to avoid your gaze as she replies, “And how do I find this ship?”

“I’ll find it for you. A sound ship with a good captain.” You look back up at her sheepishly, face flushed with embarrassment. After a moment, she turns to face you and looks you straight in the eye. Your heart thumps at the eye contact, but you manage to keep your composure.

“I look forward to meeting him,” she says with a tone of authority. She is attempting to put distance between you both, you realize. She is asserting her role as queen, and yours as her knight, so she does not have to address the depth of feeling you’ve just revealed to her. It breaks your heart, but it also makes you relieved. You would rather pretend this whole night never happened.

With a small bow, you bid her goodnight and return to your own chambers. You flop down on your bed, exhausted.

But you get no sleep that night.


End file.
